


whetstone

by safeandwarm



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mob, First Meetings, Handcuffs, M/M, Neil Josten as Abram, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 01:59:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16924407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safeandwarm/pseuds/safeandwarm
Summary: Abram has been living in London since his mother's death. He is a part of the family, but apart from them. And then, one morning, he is abducted during his run....Abram could have broken his thumb by now and slipped out of at least one of these handcuffs, but, damn him, he was curious. So far this guy had only mentioned Ichirou. Not Riko. Or his father.





	whetstone

Abram could have broken his thumb by now and slipped out of at least one of these handcuffs, but, damn him, he was curious. 

He'd been jumped on his morning run by two particularly brutish looking men, but that wasn't who he'd been left with. They weren't the reason he was allowing himself to remain locked up. It was the other guy, the one who was even shorter than himself though much broader. He smelled like cigarettes and those damn sour-sweet candies he kept eating. His face was careful, masked, the way everyone who did this job for a time learned how to be.

But the reason Abram stayed was because so far this guy had only mentioned Ichirou. Not Riko (though he was long gone by this point). Or his father.

He was curious what the end game was.

Maybe the Moriyamas were finally claiming him as theirs after all these years, which he had been furious to learn about from Uncle Stuart. Maybe it was some kind of trade with his father--quid pro quo ("We'll get you back your runaway son and you murder a bunch of people for us."). Maybe it was something else he hadn't thought of yet.

The guy walked back across the room, a bag full of sour gummy worms in one hand and said worm in the other. The guy stood in front of him. "Oh, Nathaniel."

Abram didn't flinch. He wouldn't, not anymore, not after all these years. "You know my name but I don't know yours."

The guy's eyes swept over Abram's face, studying. "Andrew." He barely took a breath. "You've got lots of names, Nathaniel, but I hear you prefer Abram these days. Would you mind if I called you Abram?"

"As you like."

"So polite."

Abram flashed an insincere smile. "My mother taught me well."

"Not your father?"

Abram could feel bile rising in his throat and swallowed it down. "My father taught me other things."

Quick as a breath, Andrew had a blade out and pointed at Abram's chest. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. "He taught me them as well." And quick as the knife appeared, it was gone, put into wrist sheaths that Abram mentally kicked himself for not noticing. "Bit of a sadistic fuck, if you ask me."

"What?" 

"Daddy dearest. He's the worst. Or, well was." Andrew tilted his head to the side, and he looked a little like a grumpy cat. "What do you say when someone has died and you are praying they get tortured in hell for all eternity but you are also an atheist?"

"I'm not really sure. Are you saying my dad is dead?"

"Yes."

Abram blinked. "Okay. Okay. So, um, what am I doing here? If you wanted to tell me he was dead you could have made a phone call or written a letter. You didn't need to handcuff me to this very nice chair in downtown London knowing my family will eventually me. You know they'll find me, right?"

"Ichirou has business with you."

"He could have gone through the family."

Andrew sneered, his face curled in disgust. "He doesn't have business with the Hatfords. He has business with you, Abram."

"And just where do you fit into all of this, Andrew?"

Andrew stuffed more of his gummy candy into his mouth as he walked away and pretended like Abram had never spoken. What an asshole. 

Abram tapped his toes and let his eyes trail around the room for the dozenth time since he'd been here. It felt like hours now. The room had a window but the blinds were pulled and had been closed since he got here. He had just been finishing his early morning run and he usually made it back to his apartment before six. He hadn't been unconscious for any of the abduction, only blindfolded and stuffed into a trunk by those large buffoons, who Abram had to assume were still hovering around somewhere. 

He was handcuffed to one of those fancy modern office chairs that are low to the ground and have no arm rests. They are clearly deliberately uncomfortable to set you on edge. If Abram turned his head, he could see an opulent desk and a very comfortable-looking chair. He imagined that it was Ichirou's, but Andrew had claimed it, lounging back with his feet propped up on the desk. Andrew had his phone out and looked to be scrolling through Twitter or Facebook or something.

"I spy something with my little eye that is black." Andrew ignored him. He didn't react at all. Time to see how important he really was to Ichirou, how far he could push Andrew. "Andrew, I'm bored. I'm so bored. I need to go to the bathroom. I'm thirsty. I want to smoke. I'm hungry. Will you play a game with me? Please, Andrew, pl--"

Abram felt the air catch in his throat as a knife flew past his head, missing by centimeters. "I don't like that word." 

Abram turned around to see the blade sticking out of the wall. And then he looked back at Andrew. His hazel eyes had an emotion in them that Abram didn't or couldn't name, something like grief and anger and fear. And then it's gone, hidden behind a mask.

"I'm not here to entertain you."

"Why are you here?"

Andrew was silent for a few seconds, just staring again. But it was more than that. It was like he was trying to solve a puzzle. "Let's play a game."

"I thought you said you weren't here to entertain me."

For the millionth time, Andrew continued on as if Abram had never spoken. "Truth for a truth. I'll answer honestly and so will you "

"This is a weird way to torture information out of me."

Something almost like a smile crossed Andrew's lips. "I'm not going to torture you, Abram. We're just passing the time until the little lord shows. So, truth for a truth, yes or no?"

Abram didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"Why did you run to the Hatfords?"

He took a breath, ignoring the scent of burning flesh in favor of fresh air. It was just a ghost, a lie. She was dead and he was alive and that was all that could be said. "I lacked many options after my mother's death. I chose the one I thought would keep me alive. And it has so far."

Andrew tilted his head in concession.

"How did my father die?"

Andrew snorted. "He's not a subtle man, Nathan Wesninski." He said it with a sneer. "He used a meat cleaver, for fuck sake, and he couldn't shut his goddamn mouth. He'd been in prison for the past few years, right, and when he got out a few months ago Ichirou wanted me to go train with him for a bit because he's supposed to be the best or whatever."

Andrew rolled his eyes. "He's a sadistic fuck. That's all he is. That and not careful enough. I don't know if it's because he just didn't care anymore but he was making a huge mess and causing problems for the main house. It was like Riko all over again. So I suggested to Ichirou that he be dealt with sooner rather than later."

"The Moriyamas killed him."

"The FBI. Pay off a few people, call in a few favors. Easy. Done before brunch and everyone is happy."

He was really dead. 

For so long his father had been like a boogeyman in the night waiting to get him. Nathan was dead. He was gone. Abram was free.

Abram was free. Wasn't he?

"What does Ichirou want with me?"

"It's not your turn, Abram."

"So ask me a question."

"No."

"Ask me a question!"

All of a sudden, Abram felt trapped. He began to pull on the handcuffs, twisting his arms trying to get loose, even though somewhere in his brain he knew that wasn't the way to get them off. Abram pulled and pulled, the metal digging into his skin. "What does he want with me? If my father is dead, why does he want me? Ask me a question. I'll tell you anything." His heart was beating so fast. He couldn't breathe. Fuck, he couldn't breathe. And the metal of the handcuffs was rubbing his wrists raw. "Let me go, Andrew. Let me go. Let me go."

"Name three things you can see."

"What?" Abram stilled.

"Tell me three things you can see," Andrew repeated. 

"A desk. Um, a potted plant. And, and, um, a pendulum."

"Three things you can hear."

Abram closed his eyes. "A clock ticking from somewhere. Um. Uh. Traffic. And my own breathing."

"Three things you can smell."

Abram opened his eyes and gave Andrew a look, asking if he was kidding, but apparently he was not kidding because Andrew continued to stare at him blankly. 

"Okay. Um, cigarettes. And that candy you've been eating. And I guess the leather from this chair."

"I'm surprised you didn't mention your own sweat. I really should have had them grab you at the start of your run." 

"Hey. I didn't ask to be abducted before given a chance to shower. Or, you know, at all."

"I know, Abram." Andrew's smile is sad and resigned.

When Abram spoke, his voice was quiet, soft. "Is he going to kill me?"

Abram had spent so long fighting, so long trying to stay alive, and now he just felt...tired. And old. He was in his twenties. He shouldn't feel this old and tired and resigned to death.

"No, Abram."

"Then what? If he's not going to kill me, then what could Ichirou Moriyama possibly want to talk to me about?"

"A job offer."

As if he had been summoned by his full name, Ichirou was suddenly there. The last time Abram had been in Ichirou's presence, they had both been children. Now Abram was here in his trackies and Adidas running shoes. Ichirou was wearing a suit that Abram was sure was tailor-made just for him.

"What's the job?"

Ichirou held up his hand. "If Andrew undoes the handcuffs, will you promise not to try and run."

Abram smiled sweetly. "Of course." Not like it would do any good to run with Andrew's knives, the at least two guns Abram could spot on Ichirou, and the who knows how many guards.

Andrew went around behind Abram. He spoke quietly. "I'm going to touch your wrist. It might be a little sensitive or painful."And then a click. He said something similar as he unlocked the other wrist. 

Abram cradled his arms together, trying not to bump his wrists. They hurt like hell. 

Ichirou went and sat down at the desk, so Abram reluctantly turned his chair toward him, ignoring the pain shooting through his arms and fingers. 

"The job. Most of your father's associates died with him in the raid on the Baltimore house, but a few of them have survived and are attempting to take over his...legacy, let's say."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"I plan on installing one of my own in a similar position to that as once held by your father while the FBI comes in to take care of the petty criminals but--"

"Do you mean me? You want me to take over for him? Because no thank you."

Ichirou's smile was condescending. "No, Nathaniel. I meant Andrew, of course." Abram turned to look at Andrew who was leaning in the corner with his arms crossed. "As I was saying, the FBI will deal with most everyone they know about, but they don't know about everyone. I don't know about everyone. My father let The Butcher get away with far too much and it was a mistake."

"What is the job?" 

"You will provide information about your father and his upper level associates to the federal agents I provide for you, and in return you will be given all of your father's assets."

"Are you joking?"

"You are his legal heir and the one named in his will to inherit."

"Still?"

From the corner Andrew said, "He was obsessed with you. He was always sure you would return to him."

"But didn't the government seize his assets?"

Ichirou shook his head. "They got the public stuff. His bank accounts and safety deposit box. All the safes and the houses in Chicago and Baltimore." Which Abram didn't want anyway. "I have his offshore accounts, his art collection, the house in Sydney and the loft in New York City."

"He hated the loft in the city. Mom and I were the ones who loved New York. Why would he keep it?" Abram said it quietly, to himself, but obviously not quietly enough. 

"You'll do it."

Yeah, he was going to do it. He was going to go and do whatever he could to end his father's legacy and close that chapter in his life. Put all his father's people in prison forever. Maybe commit some light arson on the Baltimore house. He was going to sell off all of his father's favorite things and give the money to charity. And then he was never going to think about Nathan Wesninski again.

"I suppose. Though I still don't understand why you couldn't have just written a letter or called. There was no need to abduct me for this. You could have gone through Uncle Stuart."

"Your father was killed five days ago. And you learned about it just now. The Hatfords will always keep things from you."

"But you, little lord, are an open book."

Ichirou went carefully blank. Abram counted it as a victory. "Maybe I went to all this trouble because I wanted to know if you were more like your father or your mother."

"And did you decide who I'm more like?"

"Neither. And both. You've got this stillness that reminds me of your mother and you have your father's smart mouth."

Andrew huffed out a laugh from the corner. Abram turned to look at him again. "Quiet, you."

"When do we leave? I need to tell the family and pack some things."

"Tonight. And tell them what you need to, but we are on a strict schedule and I won't have them interfering."

Abram rolled his eyes. "I'm not getting in the middle of your petty drama. I've already lived with parents fighting for custody over me my whole life. I'm really not going to go through that shit again."

"As you wish, Nathaniel." Abram gritted his teeth. 

"So are you dropping me off back at my flat or what?"

Ichirou glanced at Andrew and Abram followed his eyes. Andrew nodded once. He stepped away from his corner.

"Come along, Abram. We're burning daylight. Only six hours until we are wheels up."

Abram stood and allowed Andrew to guide him out of the office building, which he somehow managed to do without touching him once. 

When they were settled in a car, something black and fast, Andrew passed over his cell phone. Well, pieces of his cell phone. The case and battery were not connected. Abram reassembled the thing and watched it flood with text and call alerts. He ignored them all and phoned Uncle Stuart.

He answered on the first ring.

"Abram?"

"Yes--"

"What happened? We've been worried sick. You didn't return to your flat at usual time and the security system flagged that and we tried to call you and we got no answer for like eight hours, Abram."

"I'm okay. Ichirou wanted to talk me."

"Absolutely not."

"I am not a child. Do not attempt to treat me like one." Abram pinched the bridge of his nose and looked over at Andrew who was zooming and dashing through traffic. "I'm going to America for a bit, to settle some things with my father's death."

"Abram--"

"He's dead, Uncle Stuart. Did you know that? Did you know that before I just said it?"

"Yes, but Abram--"

"I'll be back soon, Uncle Stuart." Abram ended the call. And he disassembled the phone again.

"Andrew?"

"Yeah?"

"I changed my mind. I don't need to go pack. I can just buy clothes in America, right?"

"You think your family might try to stop you if you show up at your flat?" He didn't sound surprised or scared or much of anything really. 

"I think they might already be there waiting."

"Well, I'm all for buying you new clothes so that you don't look like a slob. But before I take you to a store, you really do need a shower. You smell. You can use my hotel room."

"Thank you for this, Andrew."

Andrew shrugged. "It's not a big deal. It's just a shower."

"And it's taking me to get clothes. And it was calming me down when I had a panic attack." 

Andrew shrugged again. 

"Even if you aren't going to acknowledge it, it was a nice thing to do and something you clearly didn't have to do, but it really helped me. So thank you."

"You're welcome." Andrew's voice was quiet, but not soft or meek. "Now, let's get you a shower because you smell disgusting and I've endured it long enough."

"Oh yes, you've suffered today."

"I have. I'm glad we're on the same page."

"Oh my god, I hate you."

"Hate you more."

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this week's fic and where it ended up are so different that there is really no point in posting it. This story could have rambled on for a long time. And honestly I'm struggling not to keep writing it because I have so many ideas for this 'verse.


End file.
